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'SWEAR    ST   ?HE    HORN"

(I can use It better than you can/ said Rattling
Track.

Tut your fire-bag on that5, said my uncle,
throwing down his own ornamental fire-bag as a
wager, 'and we shall see who is the better shot/

Rattling Track took his fire-bag from his belt
and threw it down on my uncle's, and said:

'All right. Do you see that bit of log floating
out there in the middle of the stream? Watch
it!'

He raised the old muzzle-loader, took a bead
on it and fired.

As the gun cracked, a thing happened which
caused the two men to jump and hold their breath
in startling suspense. As the shot pierced the log
it leaped forward like a lizard, and two human
arms came splashing out of the water on either
side of the log and beat the water furiously for a
second—and then dropped back out of sight. As
the log continued to float aimlessly down the
river. Rattling Track threw off his blanket and
jumped into the water and swam out to it. Our
whole band was on the river-bank when he
struggled back and pulled the log ashore.

It was not a log at all. It was a hollow cylinder
of birch bark with a man's head inside of it.
When the man was taken out he proved to be a
Crow spy. He had been floating down the river
spying upon our camp—swimming with his body

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